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Aria Devereux
Description With the delicate movements of a dancer, the Rose always makes an entrance. Around her curving hips flows the curling ends of her rose-red hair, descending in loose waves over her arms and shoulders. Shorter curls brush her velvety cheeks, framing her precisely formed face, and shading her large eyes to violet when she tilts her head. Her eyes dominate her face, and after her hair, are the first thing that tend to attract attention. Large- nearly to the point of being too large- and long, they tilt slightly at the outside corners, giving her an expression of anticipation. The irises match her eyes in being nearly too large, and they change hue with her moods, running through every shade of blue ever seen on the earth. High cheekbones, a slender French nose and a slight cleft to her chin give her face enough character to move away from the image of a 'pretty doll,' and her lips form a perfect bow when she looks solemn. Dimples flicker in her cheeks when she smiles- which is rather often- and her skin maintains a shade of ivory that seems lightly brushed with gold. A light rose shade runs across her cheekbones, deepening when she blushes. Pearly fangs indent her lower lip, marking her vampiric nature, but the smile that displays them is one of charming sweetness. Standing exceptionally tall for a woman, Aria comes to a mere inch below six feet tall, and has a curvaceous form. Long limbs show light muscle tone, but she was raised for decoration and social interaction, not combat. With small hands and feet, she manages to hold a balance of soft flesh and slender bones- a gift of the mage's potion- accompanied by a poise that holds her body in excellent posture. Her taste in clothing has developed with the passing centuries, and now she prefers tailored jeans and fitted silk shirts in her favourite jewel tones. For a fun drinking game, take a shot every time the word "perfect" or "sculpted" are used to describe Mary Sue. Pound one for every situation where she is the victim of a man. Or every time her brilliant creator misspells something. Dealer's choice. So-Called Personality All but perfectly designed, Aria's sweet nature came from the potion her mother imbibed, the dreams the woman had about a daughter, and was shaped by the raising that her Toreador sire demanded. Although the passing years have slowly eroded her naive view of the world, the Rose rarely responds to anything harshly. The soul of a poet shows in her multi-hued eyes, and when she smiles, it is a benevolent expression, shining warmly on whoever has earned her pleasure. Friends are given the same gentle consideration she would anyone, but she offers them a listening ear and a kind hug when the world bruises them. Deeply maternal, she longed for children, but as her vampiric existence precludes such a thing, Aria devotes herself to amusing and protecting any child that happens to wander in her path. {V:tM} The Aria born in the United States shares many characteristics with her Dark Ages counterpart, but mingling with that eagerness to please and her inherent sweetness is the ache of lessons learned. It may take her quite some time to decide that she will speak in regards to something greatly upsetting to her, but the Rose has found that holding her tongue requires patience and understanding- something that she rarely sees demonstrated towards the Fiend by others. Her naivety was destroyed long ago, and Aria tends to be mildly suspicious when it comes to people who show a great appreciation for her physically upon first meeting. Nothing makes the walls rise faster than an ogling stare. Conversely, people who display any vulnerability- even if it's concealed behind a vicious facade- are met with gentle understanding. She knows what it is to be taken advantage of, and there is no one the Rose won't stand up to in defense of one who cannot defend themselves. Pre-Game History (prepare for shameless Mary Sue self insertion) Born to affluent parents, Aria was shaped into a dream before she was even born. Her mage father had agreed to her mother's wishes and wielded his magiq while Aria was in the womb to ensure that the child would have all of the qualities she wanted: beauty, creativity, intellect. Oddly specific, she said dreamily that she wanted a daughter with hair the colour of red roses, and eyes that would hold every shade of blue the world had ever known. As 'ordered,' Aria was born, and as her gentle Child of Gaia kinfolk mother raised her, kindness was added to her list of good qualities. Aria's father left her and her mother when the little girl was but four, and Aria spent the rest of her life feeling the lack of a protective father. An imaginative, dreamy girl, she spent the majority of her life reading fairy tales and day-dreaming of her own Prince Charming. She found the conventional ideals far too limiting, and began writing poetry about her own prince when she was eight. Aria's poetry was exceptional, especially for one so young, and her mother praised her continually on it. As any werewolf would, of course. She didn't suffer much in public schooling. Aria's beauty and her instinctive charm brought her friends, and her accomodating nature kept them. Her intellect made school easy for her, and Aria sailed through public school easily. Her entrance into Baylor University, chosen by her mother, Lark, was one of the few things Aria was unhappy about in her mortal life. She was not in herently Christian, and found the atmosphere restrictive. Typical of Aria, however, she made it through her first year, then went home to Montana and asked her mother if she could transfer elsewhere. Aria's entrance into the small, prestigious Northwestern Academy of Fine Arts, located in southern Washington was smooth. If there was one thing Aria excelled at, it was working her way into new settings and finding a niche she enjoyed. At the centre of a small local poets' group, Aria lead the sensitive artists in workshops and coffeehouse gatherings. When she joined the academy's theatre troupe, she convinced them to try comedies, rather than sticking to the Bard's works. Play attendance trebled, and Aria was considered the small theatre's crowning jewel. Throughout all of her brilliant success, Aria remained the same sweet, imaginative, dreamy girl she'd always been. One of the most remarked upon characteristics was that she had 'stars in her eyes.' Another characteristic was that she was exceptionally naive. Aria, for all of her social wisdom, didn't seem to realize when she was being manipulated. Her first couple of casual boyfriends lured her into parties and tried getting her drunk, with the clear intent of taking advantage of her. (Aria didn't care for the taste of alcohol, and so hardly touched what they pushed upon her.) Her female friends used her to get back at ex-boyfriends and snub cruel girls. Aria's appeal to others lay largely in the fact that she would -believing at heart that all people were essentially kind- do anything they asked, provided it didn't violate her very strict moral code (which was apparently completely good with selling her soul) . Odd, perhaps, for a developing woman of such intense passion to hold herself aloof from physical pleasure. Possibly even stranger was her devotion to the boyfriends she did have- Aria believed that love was the most powerful of emotions, and the purest motive. While she didn't give herself to them- understanding that what she felt wasn't *love* as she understood it- Aria did meet their other requests and demands generously. Perhaps it was being raised by a mother who pined after her one perfect love. Perhaps it was the volume of fairy tales that Aria had devoured as a child. Whatever the reason, Aria kept herself unsullied- not out of malice, spite, or self-righteousness, but because she believed that when that perfect love became hers, it would be the right moment to succumb. Aria graduated from the academy in three years, and made her mother weep with pride when she graduated summa cum laude. From then, Aria found employment with a small publishing firm, editing and approving poems for their fantasy compilations. She enjoyed her work, loved living in Montana, and found decorating her own home a charming diversion. There was only one real snag, but she refused to let it drag her down- Aria's Prince Charming had yet to appear. It hurt much more deeply than she ever let on, the fact that she was twenty three, single and lonely. While it made her laugh in a wry way, she went the spinster route and adopted several cats from a local shelter. Aria spent quite a bit of time with her mother, and enjoyed the social scene from work and the regional poets' society that she'd joined. She wasn't looking for miracles from life, and apart from the slow ache that she carried with her, Aria Devereux was content. She met Michael Stafford at a Christmas party just after her twenty-fourth birthday. Michael was tall, with rusty brown hair and deep-set grey eyes, and he could recite Shakespeare's sonnets from memory, flawlessly. He and Aria became involved in a deep discussion of William Blake's poetry, and when Aria expressed her dislike of 'A Divine Image,' favouring the more optimistic poem which had preceded it, Michael's smile took her breath away. Their courtship was precisely how Aria had pictured one should be: Michael was courteous and kept a gentlemanly distance, calling on her for dinner and coffee, meeting her mother within three months and generally charming. After seven months, Aria thought that she'd at last found the perfect love she'd always known she was waiting for. Her hopes were seemingly assured when Michael bent his knee one summer evening and offered her a beautiful diamond ring. Why it didn't occur to Aria to wonder about never seeing Michael in the daytime is immaterial. They were both busy people, and if his free hours were only after sunset, well... She could understand that. Aria looked forward to the wedding night with mingled fear and excitement, and spent hours with her mother, searching for the proper nightgown. They set the wedding date for the Winter Solstice, an odd choice of date, but Aria didn't question it. Already, she believed Michael to be her lord and master, and while she had enough will and spirit of her own to lead her own life, when love came against freedom, Aria never hesitated in choosing. Michael reinforced this, calling her his 'featherhead' affectionately, and taking control of her finances. It didn't occur to Aria that he had treated her as an intellectual equal before their engagement- it was enough that he offered her books, praised her poetry and caressed her cheek when he said farewell. The wedding date approached, set four months after Aria's twenty-fifth birthday. The eve of the wedding, as Aria tried hopelessly to sleep in her mother's home, Michael came to her bedroom. Aria's quiet protest was smothered, and it didn't seem to occur to her to bar him from her bed. After all, they would be husband and wife in less than twelve hours. Why wait? It wasn't marital relations that awaited her in Michael's arms, however. When he leaned over her and bared his fangs, she found enough voice to cry out. It was smothered by his hand as the Toreador sank his fangs into her throat. Aria awoke with a ravening hunger she'd never known in her existance, and all she knew was the blood was the life (take a drink for every cliché) . When Michael brought her out of her first frenzy, and Aria realized it was her mother who'd given her life selflessly to feed her, her weeping could not be abated (that's not how you use that word) . Michael bore her from the home before dawn, carrying the sobbing childe as she struggled to get back to her mother's body. It was the first of many lies he told her, when Michael said Aria's mother had asked to be her first meal. Whether they were lies to soothe or mislead is entirely academic, but it did a little to ease Aria's heartache. The vampiric existance was extremely upsetting to her. Aria had always loved the colours of the dawn- now she couldn't even watch the sunset. She'd loved sunlight, and fresh fruit- she was relegated to the darkness and someone else's life's blood. Michael himself had changed. No longer was he the charming suitor she'd dreamt of- he was father and teacher, stern and uncompromising in his tutelage of Aria in the vampiric arts. She learned swiftly, as she was wont to do, and within five years of her Embrace, Aria was Michael's prized jewel in the local Kindred society. She was a social butterfly, able to mingle with all clans easily, and she was greatly admired by the prince. A little *too* admired for Michael's taste, and within six years, he was already jealously guarding Aria's time, pushing away the Camarilla influence and keeping his childe to himself. Aria was deeply mournful of the change in the man she'd loved, and tried as best she knew how to soothe his raging jealousy. The oddest problem was that, now that she had all eternity to explore, Aria had a great longing for freedom. Michael was not her Prince Charming, and as he had lied to her about his love, she withdrew her heart from where she had laid it at his feet. Living with Michael was becoming increasingly abrasive, so it was a relief when the prince stepped in and asked her to transfer to northern New Mexico, to assist a friend of his. Michael raged, claiming that as he was her sire, he had control of her, but the prince's word was final. He backed it up with a few choice remarks about 'blood hunts,' and Aria was packed up and gone within a week. Albuquerque (the typos from such a literati know it all are pretty funny) was a blessed city of peace after the tempestuous years with her sire. Aria, free of supervision, explored the local arts scene first, the Kindred social structure last. It was supremely easy to wrap the prince around her finger and attain the position of Toreador primogen within a year. She found it simple to keep track of who was doing what, and as she rose within rank of the harpies, Aria kept things in check with a few well-spoken words. After six years in New Mexico, she was one of *the* vampires in Albequerque, and her word could make or break a vampire. It was during this time that Aria, disgusted with the Camarilla's attitude towards the small Sabbat element in the city, began approaching them for contacts. Taking the pseudonym Aria D'Ange, she presented herself as an independent Toreador, apart from sire and clan, who wanted a bit more protection than her own reputation and ghouls could provide. Considering she knew the locations of a few carefully chosen Kindred havens, the pack she approached, the Barbed Chains, took her in good stead, taught her a few things about guns, and eliminated the scattered threats to her position in the Camarilla. Aria was very, very careful to keep her sect identities separate, and made sure she had iron-clad excuses when either Devereux or D'Ange had to disappear briefly. It was easier and easier, as a couple of years passed, to keep everything neatly compartmentalized. She was crushed when the Barbed Chains were reassigned to Wyoming, but the few remaining Sabbat in the city, while not as interested in her, were useful for keeping control. She slid back into her Camarilla role entirely and adjusted her position slightly, using her influence to keep the city calm. Aria's dislike of conflict meant she went to great lengths to avoid potential outbursts. One of the actions she took, which drove the first nail in her Albequerque coffin, was Embracing Donovan Thatcher. Once a mortal friend of the city's prince, and his would-be childe, Donovan became enthralled with Aria when he was put under her care. While Aria herself didn't particularly care for either Donovan or the idea of Embracing, the prince had all too recently made a fool of himself, Embracing a bar maid. She'd had to be put down like a rabid dog, reflecting the prince's Brujah blood, and Aria chose to take action, rather than let such a thing happen again. It infuriated the prince beyond all reckoning, and he set out to deliberately knock Aria's ivory tower out from beneath her. Donovan himself helped with that inadvertendly by eventually raging against Aria's gentle rule and leaving the city in disgrace. In his goal, assisted as he was, the prince had some success, using her power plays in the past to turn some of the Kindred court against her. Aria's friends were faithful, however, and they kept the status quo for quite some time. Then Aria met Billy Joe Bob. It was a party in Albuquerque (hahaha) , one exclusive to Kindred, and with a few unknown elements invited for the thrill of it. Billy Joe Bob, a tall, blonde vampire, elegantly dressed and with wicked blue eyes distracting slightly from a receding hairline, caught Aria's attention immediately. Even more so were her eyes drawn to his escort, a heart-breakingly beautiful woman with firey hair and glinting, laughing green eyes. Conversation came naturally to all parties involved, and when Billy Joe Bob suggested to Jorge that she might be more comfortable at home, Aria felt a little abashed. She'd not taken a lover since Michael had forced himself on her, and she recognized the beginning steps to an assignation. Aria was, however, unable to resist Billy Joe Bob's advances. Not only was he captivating, charming and handsome. There was something about the few, brief touches they exchanged that sent fire through Aria's undead veins. There was a struggle, but it was weak, and Aria ended her evening in Billy Joe Bob's bed. Oh such fiery thrills such as she'd never felt! The few encounters with Michael had rather disgusted Aria, and without the spur of love to push her, she preferred to keep all encounters restricted to flirting and feeding. Billy Joe Bob, a stranger though he was, awoke Aria to the true sensual delights available, especially in his bed. It was almost like being held captive, but Aria's senses were in such a state that she couldn't possibly mind. Three nights she lingered in Billy Joe Bob's bedchamber, lost in a red haze. When she finally woke on the fourth night, she immediately tried to escape, wanting to clear her mind. Jorge caught her at the threshold and led her into a parlor, where Billy Joe Bob was waiting. He spoke soothingly, charmingly to her, gave her vitae and explained that her beauty and refinement were such that he couldn't have passed up the opportunity to indulge himself a little. The way he spoke was odd, and Aria questioned him further, finally revealing that he was, in fact, a Baali. The fact that he was one of the feared, demon-worshipping vampires didn't quite bother Aria's vacant little head. She was always open to learning, and this was a chance to discover a bit more. Jorge was a "succubus" (really a toothless old woman in a wig), and he had two other demons acting as retainers. Billy Joe Bob had gained a bit of notice by his infernal masters, and always, always sought more. They talked the whole night, and Aria found herself enjoying his company. He didn't demand her back to his bed, but made it known he was available. Aria, still in a bit of a pleasure-induced haze, felt her own guest bed too wide and empty after sharing his. She crept into Billy Joe Bob's bedchamber before dawn and rested throughout the day between he and Jorge, who had shared his bed since his Embrace. The next evening was, if anything, even more enjoyable. Waking to Billy Joe Bob's touch, to any man's caressing touch, was a new experience for Aria, and she took great pleasure in their leisurely breakfast. It occured to Aria, out of nowhere, that here might be her prince. If someone caught onto that thought, or had spurred it, Aria never knew. Dinner was served, and over candlelit goblets of spiced vitae, Billy Joe Bob asked Aria what she truly desired, what she would have sold her soul for, given the opportunity. Anyone dining with a Baali would have recognized the hint for a contract right then and there, but Aria was lost in the delight of spending time with a man who seemed genuinely kind, genuinely interested in her. The haze of physical pleasure can cloud even the undead mind, and trick the unbeating heart into treacherous paths. Aria said, meeting his eyes over the candle flames, that she would sell her soul to have him love her. Whatever spurred this, no one knew. Billy Joe Bob made no explanation of himself when he rose from the table and took Aria’s hand. He led her into his study, gave her a seat and then moved to a writing table. A long fifteen minutes later, Billy Joe Bob presented Aria with the contract and a quill. Well versed in literature, it took a moment for Aria to realize she could sign in ink, and not her blood. The change was instantaneous in Billy Joe Bob’s eyes. One moment he was looking at her with distant amusement and some odd power lust. The next, his eyes had darkened, softened at the sight of her. The contract slipped out of Aria’s hand as Billy Joe Bob’s arms moved around her, and they forgot it the remainder of the night. If she ever regretted winning her perfect love through trickery(or even realized that selling one's soul precludes ever having love, which is a virtue and cannot be given by a demon), if it tainted her feelings that it had been purchased, Aria never let it show, or even considered it, forming a basis for much of her existence. Billy Joe Bob was the perfect lover, and when he proposed to her, he acquiesed to her plea that the wedding be immediate. A fear of remaining eternally a spinster was still lingering in her thoughts, and the failed wedding with Michael had only aggravated it. Billy Joe Bob agreed, and they were wed within a month. At the wedding, Aria met a number of people who would become instrumental in her future. Dona Elena, a Lasombra of considerable age and power and Keita, a Gangrel who sleeps with everything. They were all kind enough, and Aria was flattered that her nuptials had attracted such attention. Dona Elena sought her out to give a wedding gift and a bit of unsolicited advice, something Aria dismissed at the time as overly pessimistic, but which she came to think of ruefully later. “He is a Baali first, your husband secondly,” the Lasombra had said. “Never forget that. If you do so, then his eventual betrayal will hurt you in ways you can not now anticipate.” Aria thanked her kindly for the advice, but dismissed it, too raw with love and delight to see anything but her bridegroom, toasting her across the hall and smiling. For the first six years, it was bliss. Billy Joe Bob treated her like a princess, and she worshipped him openly. The loss of her soul was a niggling thing to have this fairy-tale romance…but it *did* niggle at her mind. Aria, for all her comfort in unlife, did have a strong belief in an afterlife, and the thought of going to Hell just because she’d found the courage to grab at true love when she saw it bothered her on a number of levels. She didn’t let it interfere with her nightly life, but it was a concern she pondered on the few nights Billy Joe Bob was gone, chasing another scrap of power for himself and his infernal lords. Jorge the succubus was an issue, one that became more prominent as time passed. She had shared Billy Joe Bob’s bed for years, and had been instrumental to him in a number of his machinations. Now Aria was his focus, and such was the contract that she eclipsed all others for him. Billy Joe Bob’s choice of daemonic master put him on the path where indulgence in pleasureable vice on a nightly basis was demanded, and he indulged frequently with Aria. Too was Jorge’s succubus nature an issue- Aria was a beautiful woman, and her odd sense of virtue was dangling a carrot under Jorge’s nose. She attempted seduction many times, often coming close, for she was picturesque, and Aria was a Toreador. Billy Joe Bob grew weary of the tension, and finally offered to share Aria with Jorge one night. He consulted Aria in a manner that would become familiar: having made the decision, he offered it to her as though it would be her choice alone. Aria, for her childish infatuation with Billy Joe Bob, could not refuse. The planned menage a trois did not go well, for Jorge focused all her attention on Aria, and Billy Joe Bob found himelf in an observer’s position only. Aria, seeing her beloved husband watching silently, could not go through with it. She pushed Jorge away and reached for Billy Joe Bob. In a rage, the succubus attacked her. Billy Joe Bob didn’t kill Jorge for her attempted murder, but put her from the room in disgrace. So time passed, and the tension in the household grew. Billy Joe Bob was more often gone, and he had begun asking Aria to do certain things to help his power plays along. Aria, in love as she was, would have denied him nothing, but it did bother her to go to another man’s bed, even if it was with Billy Joe Bob’s permission. She did it far more reluctantly than Jorge, but with great success, and Billy Joe Bob began to rely heavily on Aria’s social abilities to help along some of his schemes. Jorge was finally dismissed to Hell when she attempted to kill Aria for a third time, and some of the tension dissapated. Time continued to pass, and Aria was enmeshed ever deeper into her husband’s plotting. She became his helper, entangling people in their own sins and using her abilities to contract more souls for Billy Joe Bob. However, the worry about her own soul continued to grow. It came to head when, in a fight against the Black Hand, Aria was grieviously wounded. Billy Joe Bob saved her unlife, but she realized that Final Death was at hand all the time, more so now that she was actively participating in Billy Joe Bob’s plans. The worry about being damned to Hell consumed her. Billy Joe Bob tried to soothe her with the knowledge that he, too, would be in Hell, but the fact that she would be condemned sinner and he ruling lord did not help the issue. Donovan Thatcher returned about this time, all suave smiles and sultry tones as he sought to use his sire to establish his own position. Billy Joe Bob was infuriated by the whelp, but he saw how Donovan’s power-hunger could be used to their advantage. With a plan in mind, Billy Joe Bob arranged transport for he and Aria to his infernal lord’s underground manse. Once there, Billy Joe Bob presented his case. He had already been in love with Aria, he said, and she’d sold her soul for nothing. The contract had to be null and void, for she’d received nothing in the bargain that wasn’t already hers by right. The demonic lord listened with clear amusment, and informed Billy Joe Bob if he could find someone who would willingly trade their soul for Aria’s, the Toreador could have her soul back, as pristine as it was when sold. Billy Joe Bob had prepared for such a request, and already had had Aria prime Donovan to agree to the bargain. Such lies didn’t sit well with Aria, and she asked repeatedly if there were any other way. Billy Joe Bob told her to not worry, and mentioned that Donovan had brought it on himself. The bargain was struck, and Aria’s worry about her afterlife was secured: now it was *her* choice: Heaven or Hell. Though tricking someone into damnation, and helping a Baali of her own will certainly damned her, anyway. An odd change occurred after this, however. Before striking the bargain, and Aria had regained her soul, Billy Joe Bob had been the soul of devotion, asking only a little from Aria, manipulating her less than he did anyone else, giving her all that she desired and doing so with as open a heart as the Baali had. After she regained her soul, Billy Joe Bob became cooler, much more distant. He didn’t seem to care as much about Aria’s feelings, and no longer excused himself for every absence. Aria, while understanding that many marriages did eventually cool, couldn’t grasp that her perfect marriage had fallen apart. She wept many private tears, reserving them for when Billy Joe Bob wasn’t home, which became more and more often. A consolation in the midst of this was the company she began to keep. Billy Joe Bob’s business often took him to Europe, and with growing reluctance, he took Aria with him when the trips would extend for a period of time. She resided with Dona Elena and a friendship grew between the women. Included in this was Savannah Keita Burnett. The three vampiric women spent time together. Things became cooler in the Baali’s home as Billy Joe Bob’s web of power, stretched thin for over a hundred years, suddenly drew together. At long last, the Baali’s plotting had come to fruition, and he was able to slaughter his daemonic lord and take the creature’s place in Hell. Aria, the dutiful wife, accompanied him below ground, lingering at the gateway a long time, watching the stars before dark earth closed overhead. For Dark Lord Billy Joe Bob, itwas Paradise. Everything he’d worked for, plotted for, scraped souls for had finally come true. He had unimaginable power, hordes of succubi to indulge his pleasures, the human world for games and torture, and damned souls for amusement. The lack of sky, the closed-in nature of Hell itself did not bother him in the slightest, and he was only satisfied that at last, his hard work had paid off. Aria was utterly miserable. Cut off from all natural beauty, locked in a place that constantly echoed with screams, distanced from her husband by the beauteous demons who jealously guarded his bed, she was left adrift. Aria’s only haven was in her poetry, a mainstay as it had always been. She wrote, and wrote, and wrote, losing herself in the flow of words. The only downside was that her poetry became stagnant, focused only on her misery and surroundings, rather than finding fresh subject matter. Distraught, Aria sought Billy Joe Bob’s comfort, trying to close the gap in their marriage. While she couldn’t bring herself to participate in the torturous games, she did try changing her approach, being more assertive and pushing succubi away from him when she wanted his attention. For a time, Billy Joe Bob was diverted by this new side to his wife, and twenty years passed with them exploring a new facet of their union. Eventually, Aria could take no more. Ninety-four years after Billy Joe Bob had attained his throne, she came to him with a request. Could they not take a year off? Go back up to the earth, refresh themselves with the night air and take in the newest sins from street level? She appealed to his desires, using every eloquent trick she knew, the first time Aria had attempted manipulating Billy Joe Bob. The Baali had laughed in her face and told her, with a blunt coldness that left no doubt, that if she wanted out, there was the doorway. She could have her own life- he didn’t care. With a shattered heart, Aria made her way back to the surface, and the demons that released her from the Hell-plane did so brutally. Aria came to herself in the middle of a vineyard in Greece, an hour from dawn. She sought shelter in a small barn, and when nightfall came, she found access to a phone. The first person she thought to call was Billy Joe Bob, and hours passed while she wept bitterly, huddled in a phone booth in a small Greek fishing village. When she collected herself, Aria called Dona Elena. The Lasombra dispatched retrieval immediately, and Aria was welcomed to the dona’s French chateau within three hours. The Gangrel herself walked in, finding Aria sobbing inconsolably into Elena’s skirts. All three women felt the pain of betrayal, of abandonment, if to differing degrees, and it was natural that they should find some comfort in each other. They became lovers, for a brief period, although Aria was always uncomfortable with the situation. It took seventy years after she left Billy Joe Bob in Hell for Keita to finally get the wedding ring off of her hand. Although Aria had left Hell behind, she had found a new meaning of torment in the unceasing pain that flooded her heart every evening. She had truly loved her husband, and the pain of his choice cut her anew with every thought that had a trace of him in it. If only she'd been better written or had more than a single point in perception and intelligence. Keita and Elena sought to keep her occupied, and for thirty or so years (why? They're both selfish narcissists. Oh, right. They're all Mary Sue characters played by the same talentless hack. Seriously. Their "flaws" are so thin that, minus their physical descriptions, you could go through and change their names and no one would know the difference.) , Aria was constantly on the move, meeting new vampires and other creatures, forming alliances and assisting Elena with her pet pursuit: a spell that would create daywalking vampires. Here Aria’s abilities came into full blossom once more. She flirted, enticed, laughed, empathized and lured unwitting people into Elena’s clutches, to be rewarded with a few genuinely affectionate caresses from the Lasombra and the knowledge that she’d made it through another night without suicide. The years fell away, and Aria eventually ceased weeping every time she heard the name Billy Joe Bob. She finally stopped gasping at the back of every tall, broad-shouldered balding blonde man, and her poetry came back to itself after half a century. What she was doing with the rest of her time, she didn’t particularly like. Elena used her as blatantly as Billy Joe Bob had done, perhaps with a bit more care for Aria herself. Aria, being a complete bubble head, had forgotten that Billy Joe Bob never actually lied about being evil or self interested. The Toreador became bedmate and toy to anyone Elena could use her on. The worst was the Ventrue, Kerne. An uncouth, ruthless, graceless idiot of a vampire, he was, nonetheless, one of the key individuals in Elena’s search for the daywalker spell. Kerne had taken an immediate liking to Aria when he saw her at Elena’s London home, and Elena made no hesitation in ordering Aria to entice the Ventrue. “Tease, do not fulfill,” were her instructions, and although Aria’s skin crawled every time Kerne touched her, her loyalty to someone who had been kind to her kept her captive. Pertinent Connections * Dona Elena -the Lasombra who found numerous uses for the lovely Toreador, Elena has been part mother(making the "genuinely affectionate caresses" a little extra icky) , part friend and part owner throughout Aria's life. Whether Aria's loyalty is without supernatural creation is something that even the Weed (sorry, the nickname "The Rose" was Victoria Ash) herself does not know. All that seems pertinent is that when Elena calls, she answers. Game History Highlights * Currently... Category:Bookcase